ARROW: Slade Aftermath
by clairedelunexx
Summary: After what went down with Slade, and Queen Consolidated going bankrupt, Oliver and his friends must do some major damage control. Things aren't what they used to be. Situations change, new relationships form, friendships turn to romance, all is not the same in Starling City.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Unemployed

"_My name is Oliver Queen. After five years on a hellish island, I have come home with only one goal. To save my city. But I have lost everything important to me, and I am no longer the Arrow I have strived to become. Things have changed; and I have to deal with the ramifications that have shifted my life and the lives of the people I love."_

The wind whistled down the dark alleyway, ruffling the man's collar enough to force him to remove his hands from his deep pockets and adjust it. He checked his phone, to ensure he hadn't read the location wrong, and sighed in relief. This was going to be an important meeting; possibly making it the highlight to his career. If he didn't make this count, Bauman Industries would lose everything and his family would never forgive him.

Bauman Industries dealt in the destruction of other companies. Simply put – wealthy landowners paid him to bulldoze over bigger, more successful companies so they in turn could put up their own industries. And this meeting he was waiting for was with an esteemed CEO of what once was one of the most successful companies in all of Starling.

And Tom Bauman was going to bulldoze it for more money than he could possibly hope for. In fact, he could see it now: two penthouses for his daughters, and another large enough that would hopefully make his wife come back to him. She had divorced little over three months ago, and he had thought of little else since. This deal was literally his last shot to make her understand how much he loved her, and what lengths he would go through to get her back. Nerves swirled in his gut, and he yanked a smoke from his jacket pocket, lighting it briefly and taking a deep inhale.

"Keep a cool head, Tom," he reminded himself, sucking hard on the cigarette. "Everything will be fine."

"Tom Bauman!" a gruff voice erupted behind him, startling the man out of his daydream. He quickly stamped out the light and turned smoothly, prepared to meet the face of his salvation. But to his immediate surprise – instead of the wealthy business owner he had expected, he saw a dark silhouette standing not five feet away, his face consumed in shadow. A bright light lit up behind the figure, probably what was making it so difficult to see the face. Tom lifted a hand to shield his eyes.

"Mr. Hunt?" he yelled out, squinting and leaning his neck forward, in hopes he would see the figure's face more clearly.

"Every company you have carelessly demolished, you will pay for!"

The loud, yet slightly muffled voice startled Tom. Where had he heard it before? He swore he had, at least once. How could one forget that loud, yet oddly contained tenor that seemed to fill a person with the soundest of dread? It resonated as he spoke to Tom, vibrating at the base of his chest. But what the hell did he mean by "you will pay"? Sure, he demolished perfectly successful businesses so others could take over the lots and build their own, but it was his _job_. The last thing he had been paid to bulldoze was a string of orphanages in Rio de Janeiro. Granted, it meant that thousands upon thousands of parentless children were left without a roof over their heads, but at least he was ensuring his own wealth, right?

He cleared his throat and stepped toward the silhouetted figure. It was definitely a man. "Listen, sir, whatever you want, I'll gladly pay you for it. I have money, I do. But if you'll wait long enough for me to close a deal with someone, I can get the money and then pay yo-" but before he could finish, an arrow whistled past his ear and embedded itself into the wall behind his head.

It was then Tom knew who this person was; the famed vigilante of Starling City. Or, as was most recent, the Arrow.

"You…" he squeaked, unable to find his voice. Another arrow struck the wall again, this one just above the first.

"Who's paying you to bulldoze Queen Consolidated?"

Tom's throat felt as if it were filling with syrup. He couldn't speak.

His hesitation must not have please the Arrow, because another arrow sailed at him, just grazing his cheekbone and sending him stumbling backward, his back hitting the wall. Another arrow came then and caught his sleeve, secluding Tom to the wall. He found that odd, considering he could just slid his arms out of the sleeves and be free. But something told him the Arrow wasn't that easy to evade. He wasn't going to try it.

"I _– said – _who is paying you!"

Tom's voice cleared, then. Thank God for fear. "Ummm….his name's Callum Hunt. He owns Hunt Horizons."

"What do they do?" the Arrow prepared his bow once more.

Tom felt a steely taste on his tongue. "I-I d-don't know. I'm just paid to bulldoze. I'm never told what the businesses are, just pave way for them to put their offices somewhere. I just get names." And then, for some reason, he felt the need to say more, though he wished he hadn't. "It's how I make my business."

"Well, prepare to be out of a job, Bauman!"

One last arrow sailed straight between the man's eyes and blackness consumed him.

OoO

Felicity Smoak was busy.

And that wasn't exactly putting it light. Ever since Queen Consolidated had been bought out by Isabel Roshev; she had taken to working three jobs. Two of which she did _not _like. At all. The only job she remotely enjoyed was still acting as Oliver Queen's Arrow Girl (meaning she helped him track down baddies that liked to terrorize the city) but even that was proving to be difficult.

See, now that Oliver was no longer a billionaire, their funds had collapsed significantly. For instance, now that Felicity had little or no free time on her hands, she was finding it harder and harder to make time for the Arrow. Who would have believed being the concierge at Starling Hotel would take up twelve hours of her time? Besides, even after her shift there ended, she had to mosey on over to Sephora, which almost always gave her a splitting headache. It paid well, though, so she couldn't exactly complain.

Now, in the four hours she had off, she was back at the Foundry; tapping out a code and hacking into a government database so Oliver could track down their latest baddie, apply named Callum Hunt. But, seeing as they had to cancel the highspeed internet she had been using for the past year and a half, and bought something that was no better than dial-up, tracking down the guy was almost impossible.

She wanted to scream.

"Felicity!" Oliver's familiar shout made her jump and she swirled in her chair, aiming her sights on him. He looked as he usually did whenever returning from patrolling the streets of Starling: hood thrown back, eyes tired, two red lines lightly indenting the areas around his eyes where the mask lay, and his bow was clenched in his hand, a fine substitute to the neck that he clearly wanted to wring. Felicity knew right now that that particular neck was her own.

She took a deep breath, "yes, Oliver?"

He paused a beat, probably surprised at her calmness. A feel of excitement tripped through her veins, forcing a small smile to tug at the corners of her mouth. She had worked extra hard on schooling her emotions around Oliver whenever he got like this – angry teetering on the edges of rage. Whenever he reached the rage stage, he always managed to get her irritation rolling and then pretty soon, the room would grow heavy with tension so thick not even his arrows could penetrate.

But now, he was no match for her. She had managed to build a rock hard exterior around her emotions, and so far, it was working beautifully. She pushed her glasses up her nose and crossed her arms over her chest, keeping a firm stare on Oliver. Daring him to continue with the attitude. "I'm listening."

He swallowed visibly. "I lost sight of Callum."

Felicity felt a tightness in her chest, but pushed it down. "I know."

"So, what happened?"

"Crappy internet, that's what happened."

He faltered, his right hand tightening on the bow. "Felicity…"

She shoved away from her desk, then, and padded over to him, eyes blazing. "Oliver Queen, are you going to _blame _me for this one? Again? Because I implore you remember how that went down the last time you blamed me for slipping up. In fact, _I dare you _to blame me."

She expected him to do just that, too. Obviously, it was totally unfair for her to assume he would just jump down her throat, given all that they had been through, but who could blame her? She was stressed, and despite it being her day off, she was here at the Foundry, fiddling with a useless Internet connection in hopes of helping Oliver Queen maintain a secondary life of fighting crime.

But to her surprise, the young man set his bow down the table beside him and reached out, gently pulling her into a hug, his arms circling her tightly. Felicity's spine straightened in shock, then relaxed slightly, letting herself sink into the embrace, eyes closing. His body was warmer than she anticipated, an obvious side effect of running around fighting crime. It was definitely bound to work off steam. His chin settled atop her head and she rested her cheek against his shoulder, inhaling the rough, sharp scent of him that she could never quite put her finger one. It was a cross between oak, aftershave and…blood? No, it was coppery, but not quite like the smell of blood, it was sweeter than that. It definitely wasn't blood, because to Felicity that was highly unpleasant, and nothing about Oliver Queen was unpleasant.

As the minutes ticked by, neither of them displaying any sign of pulling apart, the sudden sound of a door opening and then closing made Felicity jump slightly, despite Oliver's strong grip still encircling her. Footsteps tap-tapped down the metal stairs leading down to the Foundry, and then the familiar voice of John Diggle interrupted the heavy silence that had descended upon the two.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Oliver released Felicity and stepped back, giving Dig an embarrassed smile. "Nope, you're not. Where've you been?"

Dig shot a nervous look toward her, before returning his attention back to Oliver, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Lyla had her ultrasound today; and she asked me to come, keep her company."

Oliver raised his eyebrows in surprise and reached out to give his friend's hand a quick squeeze, never one for hugging. "That's great, Dig. Congratulations."

Felicity did like to hug, however, and threw herself at him, a big smile splitting her face, unable to contain it. "That's great news, John!"

She felt his large hand press lightly on the small of her back and stepped away, giving Oliver a tiny side-glance. He winked at her and plucked up his bow, carrying it back over to where it usually rested on it's stand.

Felicity moved back over to her spot, still reeling from Dig's news. She was actually going to be an aunt! Okay, fine, maybe she wouldn't _actually be_ Diggle Junior's aunt, but hey, it was close enough! She had basically been a daughter/younger sister to John Diggle, and that meant being almost family to someone of his kin. She deserved that, given all she had done for him and Oliver.

_Because that's not selfish at all_, she scolded herself.

A glittery, fluttery, excited feeling remained in her stomach, regardless, and she found it very hard to get back to work fixing the worthless Internet. She sat herself at her desk, and picked up her tablet, unlocking it briefly before hooking it up to the three sets of desktops in front of her.

_Okay, Smoak_. _Back to work,_ she reminded herself as she tapped out a series of codes, her brain working a million miles a minute. Pretty soon, she had immersed herself in her task, which was fairly easy when it came to computers. Technology was the one thing that _didn't _stress her out. Things like drug lords, crazed porcelain doll fanatics, assassins, they definitely jumpstarted the old nerves – but give her a bullet-laced, barely working laptop or an old system from the 70s that you think "No way that could still work" but low and behold it does, Felicity could do that with the ease of breathing. Unfortunately, that was easier said then done, especially when you were dealing with a system so slow, you swear a snail could reach China before the connection buffered all the way.

"Having trouble?"

She jumped in her seat, and turned her neck at whiplash speed, noticing that Oliver stood behind her. How the hell had he snuck up on her so quietly? She locked her tablet hastily, and twirled in her chair to face the young man, flexing her toes, thankful she had had the foresight to remove her heels. Sitting in those things was killer on her feet, despite the fact that "sitting" implied that she wasn't moving, let alone walking, it still _hurt_.

"Just…hating this internet, that's all," she sighed.

Oliver flashed his signature half-smile and reached down to lift her up off the chair, causing her heart to leap wildly in her chest.

"Uh, Oliver, what in God's name are you doing?"

"Tearing you away from your computer," he rejoined, reaching down to swiftly snatch up her heels. He shoved them at her chest and she stood there, confused. She chanced a look at Dig, who was sliding his arms through his jacket. "John? You in on…whatever this is?"

He grinned. "Yep."

Felicity blinked again, trying to figure out of any of this was a trick. So far, the fact that both Dig _and _Oliver were changing into jeans and shirts implied that they were serious. And Felicity couldn't help but smile. Was she finally going to get the day off she wanted? Because that would be fantastic. The fact that she had been laboring over that that damn computer all day made her feel incredibly worn out.

"Ready, Fel?" Oliver asked her, breaking into her hazy thoughts.

Felicity slipped on her heels and snatched up her purple jacket, hurrying after the two men as they exited the Foundry, unable to control the ear-to-ear grin that refused to leave her face.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Unlikely Allies

"_My name is Oliver Queen. After five years on a hellish island, I have come home with only one goal. To save my city. But I have lost everything important to me, and I am no longer the Arrow I have strived to become. Things have changed; and I have to deal with the ramifications that have shifted my life and the lives of the people I love."_

Laurel sat by her father's hospital bed, feeling drowsy still from just having awakened five minutes ago. She glanced down at her worn jeans and old sweater with a hole on the right sleeve and an emblem of a unicorn printed on the front. It had been passed down to her from her mother when she had been young, something she had always dreamed of owning since she was six. It was supposed to have been given to Sara after Laurel graduated high school, but that opportunity had been lost when the youngest Lance decided to join Oliver on the Queen's Gambit. Laurel hadn't really minded, though, for the thought parting with the sweater made her sick. Because the truth was, despite it being rather childish – given it had a _unicorn _on it – she still couldn't shake the warm and fuzzy feeling that came with wearing it. It was a connection to her mother that she had managed to keep despite everything she had lost since the divorce.

Now, as she looked over at Quentin Lance's still, sleeping form, she couldn't help but wonder what exactly she had with him that was as potent as the sweater. It certainly wasn't their love for old films. That had always been a passion shared between her and Sara. Sure, Laurel's struggling addiction to drugs and alcohol was something she had in common with the man, but that was a thing to _forget_. Not to remember. She rubbed an impatient hand through her light brown hair and reached forward to squeeze her father's hand, noticing for the first time how thin he'd gotten since she had checked him in almost a month ago. She tried not to think about the moment when she'd first seen him collapse, blood protruding from his lips as he coughed.

All her life he had been a kind of hero to her. That probably made her the stereotyped "Daddy's little girl", but she never cared. All that mattered was that no matter what, he loved her and tried very hard to keep her innocence intact, to make sure that no matter what happened, that her morals stay true and she become the kind of person who would fight for the innocent. Which come to think of it, Laurel was just that. Since graduating from college as a full-fledged attorney, she had busted her tail defending all the people in which she felt were wrongly accused, and refused to relent until she came out on top.

Tears dribbled down her cheek and stopped at her chin as the memory flashbacks of her father flicked through her brain like an aged film, slowing down on all the moments Quentin had picked her up and swirled her around as a child.

"I love you, Dad," she whispered, moving her thumb slowly down his wrist.

As she continued to stroke his hand, she barely noticed as a figure entered the room and pulled up a chair beside her, not uttering a word, only honoring the heavy silence as she stared upon Quentin's motionless face, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. When she finally decided to end the silence, though, she looked to her right, expecting to see Oliver. If she had expected anyone to come by the hospital to visit her Quentin Lance, it would be him, right? But to her honest shock, she saw instead the face of Felicity Smoak.

Laurel had always admired the young woman; though she would never admit it out loud, under any circumstances. Especially to Oliver _or _Felicity. She loved the way her long blonde hair was always tied back into a neat ponytail and the way her glasses deemed her as incredibly clever. In fact, Laurel wondered just what exactly it was that made Oliver like her. At first, she thought maybe it was because of the hair. Sara was blonde, after all, and he had chosen her over Laurel. So maybe, the same went for Felicity. Blonde equaled affection from Oliver Queen.

_What is it about you? _Laurel thought intensely, studying the woman's features.

"How is he?"

"Huh?" Laurel mumbled, being shaken from her own thoughts.

Felicity nodded in the direction of Quentin, a small crease forming between her eyes. She was worried. A tight sensation started at the base of Laurel's chest, and she knew what would come next. She bit the inside of her cheek as soon as she felt the first sign of tears, praying that it would whisk them away. She wouldn't respond if she knew the tears would spill midsentence.

"Laurel?"

As she felt the sadness ebb, she forced a smile on her face and faced the other woman, careful to not look her directly in the eyes, picking a spot on the wall slightly above her ear. "Oh, the nurse said he's been in pain the last few days, so she gave him morphine to dull it. He's been asleep for the past two hours."

"And you've been here all this time?"

She shrugged, unwilling to answer. The truth was, since her dad had been admitted, she had rarely gone home. Why should she? It wasn't like there was anything for her there; what with her mother living in Central City, and Sara having gone back to the League of Assassins with Nyssa, she had nothing. And with Tommy being dead, and Thea and Oliver dealing with the ramifications due to Queen Consolidated going bankrupt, Laurel really only had her father, and he was unconscious.

A tickle began in her throat and she choked on a sob, trying to hide it by moving her face so her mouth pressed up against her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Felicity asked, concern obvious in her voice.

Laurel waited a beat before saying, "I'll be fine."

"I just…I know how it feels to have almost no one left, you know? My father, he…he left when I was young, and a couple years later my mom spiraled into a depression that pushed her to drinking and she could only get jobs in Las Vegas where we owned a low-end apartment which we could barely afford. Even then, though, she hardly ever came home. So I was basically stuck raising myself from the time I was twelve to, well, now."

Laurel looked up, tears having dried on her face. She looked at Felicity now, a slight surprise entering her expression. "I'm sorry."

Felicity shrugged. "I know it's a lot to dump on you, but I figure that seeing as you've gone through so much, maybe talking with someone who's gone through equally as much might lessen the pain."

Then, without even thinking twice, Laurel leaned over and gave the other woman a tight squeeze, her hand tightening on her shoulder as if she were a lifeline keeping her from drowning in the pain of her past. That was almost exactly it, though. Felicity Smoak had managed to take away some of the heavier pain that had been weighing on Laurel for the past month, and maybe even longer. Hearing that this seemingly quirky, if slightly socially awkward, young woman was dealing with the emotional baggage that Laurel had to, made her feel almost…lighter.

And for the first time ever, she could actually consider Felicity a friend.

An honest to God _friend_.

As the two women pulled apart from their awkward hug, Felicity was the first one to speak. "So? Sara's back with the league, huh?"

A look of pain flickered it's away across Laurel's face. Felicity caught it though, and her eyes widened, starting to ramble out apologies like a record on spin. "I mean, I _know _she _had _to go back, not that she wanted to…or anything. Obviously, if she could she totally would come back, I mean, if I had a sister, I would totally come back for her if I were in the same position…I mean…uh," she reached behind her and nervously scratched a spot on her neck, "sorry, I'll just…shut up now."

Laurel pressed her lips into a tight line and looked back over at her father, reaching out to take up his hand again. "It's fine, Felicity. I know you didn't mean anything by it. All that matters is that you came by."

"Is that a thank you?"

Laurel couldn't help but smile. "I guess it is."

Felicity smiled and sat on in silence. And Laurel couldn't help but relish in the feeling of positive change staining the atmosphere.

OoO

Isla Smoak stepped off the bus in Starling City, taking a good long look around. She was a pretty thing, with long blonde hair, bleached slightly by the sun (due the fact that she had lived in Florida nearly her whole life) almost always pulled into a French twist, and she had a pale complexion, giving her a subtle glow beneath the bright sunlight. She was only sixteen, but could easily pass for an adult due the fact that she was five-foot-eleven and had developed early. Now, she was finally here in Starling, where she knew her half-sister, Felicity, now lived. She checked her phone, and blanched at the time. She was at least two hours behind schedule! Okay, maybe no one really knew she was here yet, not even her mother, let alone the sister that still had no idea Isla existed. But ever since she had discovered that she even _had_ a half-sister, all she had ever wanted was to travel to Starling and meet her.

She had gotten this far, and she wasn't about to give up.

OoO

"Alright, I've narrowed down all the possible jobs that I think you can handle." Felicity announced, coming into her living room, balancing a stack of files in her arms. Oliver sat on the couch, leaned back casually with his arm thrown behind the cushions, lazily flipping through the channels on her TV. Ever since losing his family's company, not to mention his club (okay, _Thea's_) living situations were tricky. So Oliver had spent the past month and a half staying with Felicity or Dig, depending on either of their stress levels and whether or not they felt like dealing with his crap. In a way, it was almost as if Felicity and Dig were his personal caretakers, each of them trading shifts.

That or he was like a baseball card.

Felicity plopped herself beside him, slamming the stack of files on the coffee table, then got up again and ran back to the kitchen, her long braid wagging behind her like a parody of a cat's tail. Oliver watched her for a few seconds before letting his mind drift off to last night. It had been nothing but a spontaneous little outing he and Dig had decided to take Felicity on and, well, it was mostly Oliver's idea. And he couldn't stop thinking about it. Obviously, the entire outing had been slight because they had gone to Big Belly Burger and gotten ice cream after (with Dig paying), but it really was no big deal.

Except that halfway through the night, Dig had gotten a rather inconvenient call from his ex-wife/current girlfriend and claimed having to skip out early. Then, without even blinking an eye, Oliver and Felicity had been left alone, sitting uncomfortably close at the waterfront, watching silently as the stars glittered on the water and the sailboats floated and competed with each other on who could blast the most obnoxious music.

"Some dumb asses in Starling," Oliver had said, in a hasty attempt to break the awkward silence. He normally never minded when there was a lack in conversation, but this particular night, with Felicity Smoak – a girl with which he had formed a tight bond - the silence made him rather…nervous. And Oliver Queen didn't often acquaint himself with nervousness. Not with women, anyway.

Then, Felicity looked up at him, her blue eyes curious and widely innocent behind her thick frames. She looked tiny wearing her puffy purple down jacket, and Oliver all of a sudden got the uncontrollable urge to put his arms around her and hold her tight.

_Stop it! She's your friend, Ollie! _He silently scolded himself as he fought the urge, forcing his eyes to look back out at the water, pushing his sweaty palms along his pants, a hasty effort to hide the fact that his palms were shaking. His eyes traveled back to her as he continued to wipe his hands, then shook his head stubbornly, forcing his line of sight back on a large white sailboat blasting some particularly annoying pop number. He focused on the music, allowing the reckless beat to thump-tha-thump its way into his distracted Felicity-infected-mind. It seemed to work well, because just as the last trickling thought of the woman evaporated from his head, her voice pierced the bubble he'd created like a needle.

"So, Dig sure left in a rush," she said, the nerves in her voice setting his ablaze. Nervousness was a strange thing; in the way that it was almost like a brush fire in the wild. Just the tiniest trace of a nerve could set someone else's off, and then before you knew it, it created it's very own chain reaction of awkward chuckling and sweaty palms.

Oliver laughed, making it sound as natural as he could. "Yeah. Weird." _Weird? Dude, you are freakin' lame. That island, I swear, it sucked the cool right out of you. Like a vacuum. _He cleared his throat nervously and then subconsciously scooted closer to her, making it seem as if he were just being friendly. Which he was; kind of. They _were_ friends. He was her personal Robin Hood and she was his…um, IT girl? She called herself that, right?

_Don't ask her, you idiot. If she doesn't consider herself your IT girl you're totally screwed. So…whatever you do, keep – your mouth – shut! _

Felicity turned her face toward him and gave him a genuine smile, her blue eyes shining. "I like this."

"You do?" _No shit, Sherlock._

She laughed gently, reaching out to grip his fingers, warming them between her own. It felt nice, and although Oliver knew he shouldn't be thinking this, he really didn't want her to stop. Just the connection between their fingers set off an odd little tingling sensation that vibrated throughout him like a live wire. He felt like every nerve ending in his entire being was on fire, made only possible because Felicity Smoak was touching him.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"You're welcome," she said back, resting her head against his shoulder; making his breath catch in his throat.

_WHAT was going ON? _He was beginning to panic, and he didn't know why. All of this was normal. He and Felicity were close, ever since they had begun working together, their friendship had become rock solid. Hardly anything could break it – check that, _nothing _could break it. When he had first found out about Malcom Merlyn fathering Thea, and the fact that his own _mother _hadn't told either of her children, he had heard the news from Felicity. Someone who clearly didn't have to say anything, seeing as it was not her business, but told him anyway, because she was aware that _not _knowing this information was hurting him even more. He had always loved her for that. Her courage amazed him.

He had smiled to himself and squeezed her hand back, resting his cheek on her head, gazing out at the water with the strange tingly sensation still singing in his veins.

And now, sitting in Felicity's quaint little apartment, watching her reenter the kitchen, Oliver began to get that feeling again, and this time, he really didn't want it to stop. He liked the way the singing nerve endings made him feel alive, made him feel as if he weren't just Oliver Queen. Ex Billionaire, but just a man, having strange feelings for a woman whom he thought was his friend but somehow felt something more.

"Alright, I have our coffee and fresh chocolate chip scones – which smell _and _taste amazing, if I do say so myself. And so now, we can tackle these job applications." Felicity chattered off without missing a beat, setting down two steaming mugs of coffee and a single napkin with two rather large scones beside. She sat down next to Oliver, and tucked one leg beneath her, picking up the top folder and opening it to the first sheet.

Oliver narrowed his eyes and peered at the second application. "'Big Belly Burger'? You've got to be kidding me, Fel."

She blinked at him. "What's wrong?"

"I can't apply for Big Belly. It's too humiliating."

Felicity barked out a laugh, starting to fill out the first form. The title said "Men's Warehouse". _That _one definitely made him gag, but at the risk of her doing that annoying barking laugh again, he gritted his teeth and began to fill out information on the humiliating Big Belly application. Whilst filling out the special skills portion, he debated on scribbling out "Oliver Queen" and putting down a false name, possibly a ridiculous one, so the place would know _not _to hire him. But decided against it, because Felicity, being the humorless type when it came to practical jokes, would kick his ass for it.

"How far are you?" she asked, breaking him out of his reverie.

He looked up, blinking. "Huh?"

"Still on your first one?"

"Uh, yes? Aren't you?"

"Please, I'm on my fifth application."

"Which is for what, may I ask?"

She bit her lip nervously, and then turned her eyes back down, putting up one hand as if shielding the tile. Scratch that, because she _was _hiding the title. Oliver reached out with lightning speed and snatched the paper away from her, holding it out of reach when she tried to snatch it back, but he was far faster than she was. He rolled off the couch and kept the paper held up as he read the title, a feeling of dread coating his gut like molasses.

"'SCPD'? No, that's…Felicity. Do you have _any _idea how that would make being the Arrow completely worthless? Besides, you know how much I hate the police. They stick to the law…like glue. I don't do that, remember?

Felicity sighed. "I just saw the flyer and, you know, figured it was worth a shot."

Oliver shook his head, and tore the sheet in half, letting the pieces flutter to the carpet. "Absolutely not. I'd rather take a job at Big Belly or…_Men's Warehouse._ Even though that is the most ridiculous sounding job ever. As if _anyone _could imagine_ me, Oliver Queen, _selling suits_." _

The room fell into silence for a second and then they both burst into laughter, Oliver falling back onto the couch, holding his side for support. Felicity wiped her eyes in the middle of a giggle and then leaned her head on his shoulder.

"You're right, I'm sorry. That is just too funny to picture."

"Shut up," he joked, but pressed his lips to her hair, ignoring the tingling feeling once again as it settled on his nerves.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Once Bitten

"_My name is Oliver Queen. After five years on a hellish island, I have come home with only one goal. To save my city. But I have lost everything important to me, and I am no longer the Arrow I have strived to become. Things have changed; and I have to deal with the ramifications that have shifted my life and the lives of the people I love."_

Isla stepped out of the motel, stretching her long arms wide. She was glad it was finally daytime, for when her alarm had finally went off, it meant she could escape the torture device that served as a bed, and welcome the day. She adjusted her plain white tee and favorite pair of matchstick jeans, then headed away from the motel, walking along the sidewalk at a leisurely pace. It was a bright sunny morning and she didn't want to rush it. Sure, she was starving, but at 9 a.m, iHop wasn't going anywhere and this was the first time she had ever been in Starling. She wanted to explore it a little.

"Food first, though," she grumbled as her stomach gave a tiny protest. She pulled up an app on her phone, and began to search for reasonable food joints. As she scrolled while she walked, she hardly noticed someone headed directly her way, also not looking where they were going…

_SMACK! _Her head collided with someone's chest, and she grunted and fell flat on her back, stars spinning in front of her eyes.

"Oh God, I'm sorry," the voice of a young man apologized, reaching a hand out toward Isla to help her up.

She waited a beat for the tricolored stars to dissolve from her vision, before taking the hand and rising to her feet, dusting off her pants in a huff. "Jeez, walk much?" She glared up, expecting to see some punk-ass creeper with a bad haircut. But much to her surprise, standing in front of her was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen in her life. Seriously…he was _perfect._

He had one of those perfectly square heads, that immediately contributed to a chiseled jawline and his eyes were small but wide at the same time. Isla remembered once, before her mom started drinking again, when she would say things like "the eyes are the window to the soul"; and this was true on so many levels. Looking into this young man's eyes was like looking into a vast ocean at high tide. One step forward and she was a goner.

"Excuse me?" he replied in an irritant voice, snapping her out of her reverie.

"What? Oh, I'm sorry," she fumbled, remembering her first words to him. She realized that she sounded a little less-than forgiving, seeing as he had politely given her a help up. "I shouldn't have snapped, I'm sorry. I'm Isla." She stuck out a hand toward the boy, making sure not to stare too long at his eyes.

He stared at her hand warily, and then took it. "Roy."

"That come with a last name, 'Roy'?"

"Does yours?" he shot back, a little icily. Isla withdrew her hand, and casually stuck it in to her back pocket, making a quick maneuver to sidestep him and continue on her way. If he wasn't going to be friendly, either, she was not going to bother sticking around.

"Where you going?" Roy asked her as he reached out to catch her sleeve.

'Why do you care? We just met," she replied lazily, trying to sound like she really didn't care. Although she still couldn't shake the way his eyes seemed to dig deep into her skin like claws, and stay there, drawing out every ounce of will she had. But she wasn't here to ogle for some random civilian, though. She had a goal to find someone, and Roy was definitely not it.

Unless…she chanced a look into the boy's eyes again and breathed deep, trying to control her nerves. "Hey, I know we just met, but…maybe you can help me?"

Roy's eyes squinted in confusion, and he released her, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can certainly try. What do you need, 'Isla'." The imaginary parentheses around her name were obvious, almost in the same way she had repeated his name beforehand.

_Touché, Roy_. She reached into her purse and pulled out a wallet-sized photo. It was creased as if folded a thousand times from being looked at, and handed it over to him. "I'm looking for this girl; name's 'Felicity Smoak'?"

His eyes narrowed (those gorgeous eyes) and he took the photo, looking at it with an expression that Isla couldn't decipher. It was a cross between befuddlement and surprise, but more confusion than anything else, which completely threw her off. Whoever this guy was, he knew something, she could feel it like a pinching in her gut, and whatever he said that denied knowing anything about her sister, she wouldn't rest until he came clean.

"So?" she piped up, after Roy hadn't spoken for several minutes. "Have you seen her around?"

He shrugged and handed the photo back. "Doesn't look familiar."

Isla squinted. "I don't believe you."

"And that's _my _problem?"

"Yes," she retorted, shoving the photo into her back pocket, and folding her arms stubbornly over her chest. "It is your problem. I _know _you're lying."

He scoffed. "Really? Are you a human lie detector now?"

"No," she shot back defensively, not able to help it. "But I do have a long history of having been lied to since I was…very young."

"Dark past, huh? That's _so _original," Roy sneered, sarcasm dripping from his voice, thick as syrup. "Well, you're not the only one who's had to deal with people's bullshit lies in the past. And let me tell you a little secret, Isla?" He leaned his neck forward, putting his mouth up to her ear. His breath was warm on her skin. "You're really not all that special."

She rolled her eyes and turned her back on him, tired of being sucked into that intoxicating gaze of his. It wasn't easy to be all tough and rock-hard exterior, when you had gorgeous blues burning chasms into your dignity. "Well, Roy, when you decide not to be an ass and fess up that you actually _do _know my sister, then here's my number." She pulled a scrap of paper out of her purse, along with a pencil, scribbled down her number, and tossed it at him without even a backward glance.

Then she left, fingers crossing that he wouldn't let her down.

oOo

The wheels on Oliver's motorcycle screamed against the wet pavement as he breaked hard, trying to squint through the downpour at the retreating back of Callum Hunt. He put his hand to his ear, and clicked the speaker on his Bluetooth headset.

"Felicity?! He's getting away!" he yelled, stress obvious in his voice.

There was the rapid sound of fingernails tapping against a keyboard, and then, "He just made a sharp left onto Pap Street. I think he's headed under the ruins of CNRI. Go there."

"Alright, got it," Oliver kicked into gear and sped down the street, gunning the engine faster until the scenery around him was just a blur of color and sound. The most obvious being the steady beating of hard rain on asphalt, which meant…

"Don't ride too fast. Rain makes the asphalt slippery, you know."

"Felicity!" he growled, rolling his eyes as he steered onto Pap Street, catching sight of the back of Callum's coattail as he turned into the crumbled remains of CNRI. Oliver gunned the engine and jumped over a particularly large slab of concrete that still hadn't been taken care of by the city. But he wasn't surprised. The Glades had never been the number one priority to the city, it's why after the Undertaking, things had only gone downhill. Poverty was so bad, he swore if there were a record for it, the Glades would make it into the Guinness Book for being the most disintegrated, neglected part of a city in America.

He tailgated Hunt until they were in the depths of CNRI and when the other man hit a roadblock, he squealed to a stop and hopped off his motorcycle, removing a gun from his jacket pocket. He fired blindly behind him at Oliver, as he turned down a narrow opening. He slowed slightly because it was narrow to the point where he was almost too large to squeeze through. Oliver jumped off his bike, too, and pulled his bow off his back, closing in on Hunt's heels. He fired an arrow into a pile of rubble above the man's head, and rock exploded, closing off the crevice and forcing Hunt to reel backward.

"I wouldn't continue running, if I were you," Oliver shouted, notching another arrow and aiming it directly above Hunt's head, at another particularly weak beam that if hit in the right spot, would swing down and knock the man unconscious.

Hunt seemed to hesitate a second, then whirled around, firing a round at Oliver, each bullet missing completely and colliding with the crumbling stone wall behind him, falling to the floor with weak little _plink _sounds. Oliver's fingers squeezed on the bowstring, as if subconsciously daring Hunt to fire again, for he itched to send an arrow straight through that arm of his.

Hunt fired, and an arrow hit the gun, knocking it askew. The man sucked in an obvious scream and leaped to the side to retrieve is fallen weapon, but Oliver was too quick. He sent another arrow flying, pinning Hunt's hand to the back wall, forcing a bloodcurdling scream from his lungs.

"_What do you want_?!" Hunt cried in agony, staring in wide-eyed shock at the blood slowly seeping out of the wound around the arrowhead embedded in his flesh.

"What do you want with Queen Consolidated?!"

"Wh-what?" Hunt stammered. An arrow flew again, this one sticking into the wall above where his hand was still pinned, It was only meant as a scare tactic. The man screamed in pain, though, as if the arrow had actually hit him again and then let out a shaky breath of relief. "Look, man, I don't know, okay? It's the biggest foreclosure in Starling. I put up my business, and the money comes rolling in."

Oliver bared his teeth and strung another arrow. "What gives you the right to tear away the one thing that keeps the Queen family together?"

"Why do you care? The Queens have done just as much wrong this city as any big name around here," Hunt trembled, wincing in pain. "They're no better than Merlyn Global."

The familiar name tore through Oliver as if it were one of his own arrows, but instead of hitting his hand, this one seemed to drive straight through his heart. He bit back the pain, and drew the arrow string back, preparing to release. "Do _not _speak of the Merlyns' that way! Malcolm may have failed this city but his son never did! Now, what were you planning on putting in Queen Consolidated's place? What _exactly _is your line of work?"

"I-," Hunt swallowed. "I, uh, own Hunt Horizons. It's a, it's a law firm. We defend the guilty mostly."

"Why would you want to _defend _the guilty?"

"Because they're the ones that would pay big money to be proven innocent," Hunt explained, swallowing hard as if there were something sticky in his throat. "And if you know what you're doing, you'll choose the one's that pay the most."

Oliver's grip relented on the bow. "So you'd be paving the way for true menaces to still roam the city, just for their money?"

"Aren't you one of those 'true menaces'? Aren't you the famed Starling City Vigilante?"

Oliver felt his blood run cold. He hadn't heard that term in awhile, and it reminded him of a time when his bodycount had been by the hundreds. Now, the bodies laid to waste were few and far between. There were more evils locked away in Iron Heights prison than there were rotting in Starling City Cemetery. And if he allowed this Callum Hunt to live, there was the risk of him weaseling his way into a bail hearing and then finding some other way to land his firm in Starling, even if it wasn't on Queen Consolidated ground.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Hunt," he began, raising his bow again. "That your business...is too dangerous to continue." And as he prepared to let fly another arrow, this time into Hunt's head, there was an explosion from behind Oliver and he launched himself out of the way, just before a large black van roared into CNRI, headed right for Callum Hunt.

Hunt ripped the arrow from his hand and snatched up his gun, firing at a place right above Oliver's head. Oliver looked up fearfully as the other man fired two rounds into some crumbly rock above his head and as soon as they hit, dust and rubble rained down on Oliver, clouding his sight completely.

Tires squealed on loose rock, and by the time the dust cleared and Oliver could see again, Hunt and the van was nowhere to be seen.

"Dammit," he cursed as he pressed his hand to his ear. "Felicity?"

"I know," came her reply. "I tried to keep a lock on his location, but the connection got lost as soon as...something went wrong. Oliver, what the hell happened?"

He paused, gritting his teeth in frustration, before saying, "Callum Hunt happened."

oOo

Dig sat in the waiting room in Starling City General Hospital, hands wringing nervously. He had gotten the call from Lyla about an hour ago; some worries she had concerning the baby. And he still hadn't heard a thing, which was making him anxious.

"John Diggle?" a nurse spoke to him, poking her head out the door across from where he sat. He snapped his head straight up, suddenly very alert. He had been waiting this long, he hoped she gave him the answers he sought.

"Yeah, that's me," he answered, standing slowly.

The woman stepped out from the doorway, and carefully shut the door behind her, a nervous look on her face. "Are you in some way related to Lyla Michaels?"

Dig blushed. "She's, uh…we're together."

"Oh," the woman amended, looking apologetic. "Well, then, I guess I should tell you that there's been a complication with the baby."

A pit began to form in Diggle's stomach, and it took every ounce of will he had to not throw up. He knew that whenever doctor's acted like this, it wasn't just small, but something bigger. Right now, he wanted to shove past the woman into the room and find Lyla, fold her into his arms and never let go until all this was resolved. He had to be calm, though, this woman looked young and slightly inexperienced, so she was probably new. He had to cut her some slack.

"What exactly is the problem, Nurse?"

An irritated look flickered in her expression, and she curled her left hand into a fist. "I'm a doctor, actually."

Embarrassment washed through Diggle like cold water. That didn't happen every day. Now, he felt horrible. He must've looked like some kind of sexist to this poor nurse, erm, _doctor. _He scratched the back of his neck nervously, and flashed a friendly smile, hoping she wasn't the type to hold a grudge. "I'm terribly sorry, _Doctor_. What, um, what _exactly _is the problem with Lyla?"

The woman sighed. "Well, after the ultrasound, we noticed an abnormality with the child that might make it difficult for it to receive fluid from inside the womb."

Diggle blanched, his mind unable to understand just what she was trying to tell him. "And, um, what's so bad about that? I-I mean, um, of _course _fluid is important, but…uh…I'm sorry, what exactly is the…problem?"

The doctor paused, and gave him a funny look. "If the child can't receive fluid from within the mother's womb, it can starve and that leaves a ninety-five percent chance of miscarriage."

_Oh_, was all Diggle could think, but no words could make their way out of his mouth.

"So, unfortunately, we're going to have to take your partner into surgery so we can place a shunt in the child – a valve that helps to pump fluid from the brain to the stomach. That way, we can ensure it can receive the right amount of fluid so the miscarriage _doesn't _occur."

"_So the miscarriage doesn't occur". That's certainly a nice way of saying: "So the baby doesn't die." _Diggle thought, feeling bile rise in this throat. Because right now, he just felt like throwing up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright, some of you may be wondering why I keep saying QC went bankrupt, because it clearly didn't at the end of season 2, although it was in the process of going under, due the fact that Isabel bought almost the whole thing, and was killed, leaving Oliver with only 5%. But, for the sake of my FANFICTION, Oliver thinks that his still owning some of it no longer matters after the death of Moira and Isabel dying. So, for the sake of **_**my fic's**_** plot, the company will be as good as gone, until possibly the climax – where I may switch it up. But for the time being, QC is as good as gone.**

Chapter 4: Weak Moments

"_My name is Oliver Queen. After five years on a hellish island, I have come home with only one goal. To save my city. But I have lost everything important to me, and I am no longer the Arrow I have strived to become. Things have changed; and I have to deal with the ramifications that have shifted my life and the lives of the people I love."_

Felicity massaged her temples, trying to rub away the migraine that was pounding relentlessly in her skull. After having failed _yet again _with tracking down another evildoer, she just wanted to go home, take some ibuprofen with a glass of Cabernet, and settle into watching a few episodes of Doctor Who. Even though it closely resembled the stuff she had to deal with almost _every_ night, at least she could reassure herself with the knowledge that at least The Doctorwas a fictional being, written for the sake of entertainment. Whereas the Arrow…was reality.

It was times like this, that she sort of missed the days when all she'd had to worry about was getting her work hours turned in on time, and deciding on which flavor of Ramen noodles she felt like heating up for dinner. It had been a simple life, definitely nothing special or extravagant. But it had been _her _life – and it had suited her just fine. Now, danger lurked around every corner for her, and she found herself not wanting to think about all the countless times she had had to put her life at risk in order to assist in saving the city. She even had the scar to prove it.

She reached behind her now to finger the rather large scar just over her right shoulder, from a bullet she had taken for Sara Lance, from _stupidly _trying to be the hero. Although it _did _make her feel like she was finally apart of the "In Crowd", she still wished for a different life. However, she wouldn't dare reveal that wish to Oliver _or_ Dig, seeing as they counted on her to be their IT girl. It was a 24-hour gig, one that never really ended for her. God knows how _Oliver _felt each day, rising to get ready in the mornings, wondering if that day was the day he was finally going to bite it. In fact, she was sure all three of them thought that. For the life they led _was _danger, and danger as she had always known, was notorious for letting in surprises. (Usually surprises of imminent death.) It made her heart ache just to think of the possibility that Oliver could be dead one day, way before his time and _John_, finally with a woman he had risked his life to save from a Russian prison and who was now carrying his child. The thought of either of them meeting a cruel end – herself, included – struck fear in her heart. She would do anything to rewind and go back to the way life was.

And yet, she wouldn't do a thing to change it. The Arrow gave her life purpose.

And Oliver Queen; she sighed, her heart giving a tight little squeeze. Lately, the way she felt around him, she could hardly explain it. It was confusing, because she had never expected to feel that way about him - ever. It wasn't _like her _to have developed a silly crush on someone like Oliver Queen. Someone so…unattainable. All of a sudden, she could hear Barry Allen's words echoing in her head.

"…_but, if you did, I could see why. I mean, 'Oliver Queen'? He's a billionaire by day, and saves the city by night."_

But that was no longer the case, well, at least the billionaire part. Being that Queen Consolidated had _basically _gone under due to the woman having purchased more than half the company dying, leaving Oliver with only 5%. Felicity was almost positive he didn't want to keep Queen Consoidated, due the death of Moira Queen and his little sister leaving town for good. Although, she tried to remind him every day that even though it was practically gone, just shy of foreclosure, there was still enough money left that if they got enough help, they could save it and maintain at least a fraction of Oliver's wealth.

And the save the city part? That was still _kind of _the case. Even if they were now dealing with less than reliable software, making it almost impossible to track down miscreants, it still didn't change the fact that Oliver still cared about doing what was right. And that's what really made her sort of like him. I mean, who _wouldn't _fall for a guy who risked their life to save people he hardly knew? That was definitely a fixed point, and it trumped pretty much all the cons, leaving a list of mostly pros.

She just wished she knew if he felt similarly for her, as she suspected she felt for him…

"Felicity?" shouted the person in question from the top of the stairs, snapping her out of her daydream.

"Yeah?"

She heard his loud footsteps echo on the stairs, and turned in her chair to face him, her heart giving a leap at his tired expression. She knew what was coming.

"Okay, okay, I _know _I screwed up _again_. Hunt got away, we're losing our edge. I know the drill." She removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to rid the stars now pinwheeling in her peripherals, which usually meant she was getting tired.

"What? No, Fel," Oliver replied, sounding slightly tired himself. He paced over to her and kneeled down so he was staring into her eyes. "I'm not angry, really. I just came, because I needed to know you were okay. I know this hasn't been easy for you lately."

Felicity looked at him, slowly pulling her hand away, replacing her glasses on her face. "I'm…," she looked back at her computer, "…fine." She stared back at him and forced out a smile, though it hardly felt genuine. She was never one to show people her weaknesses.

Oliver reached over and gripped her hand. "You know you can talk to me, Fel. About anything."

"I know," she assured him, this time smiling for real. "Thanks." She squeezed his hand and for a few seconds, they stayed there, fingers intertwined, eyes firmly locked on each other's. In fact, without even realizing it, she found herself leaning in to him, her forehead nearly pressing against his. And he seemed to make no attempt to change the situation, just moved his head up so his lips pressed to her forehead in a light kiss.

"Get some rest, okay?" he whispered as he pulled back, slowly rising to his feet, pulling her up, too. Felicity nodded and reached back to grab her carkeys and jacket, sliding her arms through the sleeves while her heart thumped like a drum in her chest.

"Are you staying with Dig tonight?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think so. Gonna remain here awhile, work on my arrows, then I'll get myself over to Dig's. Don't worry about me." He smiled, a bit of his old swagger peeking through like sunlight on a cloudy day.

Felicity nodded and headed out of the foundry, her fingers slowly leaving his.

OoO

Laurel stood before the door to her apartment, key in hand, hovering above the lock. She had been standing here in the hallway for at least ten minutes, making the rather difficult decision on whether or not to enter the place. The mere thought of being alone in the apartment made her skin crawl. Being alone _anywhere _made her feel nervous, in fact. What if now that she finally left Starling General, something went terribly wrong with her father? Was it selfish of her to come back here just for the sake of being alone? She _did _need to shower, and change her clothes, and get some food in her system. She had lost quite a bit of weight and her mood had decreased. So, she needed this. _She did_.

With a deep sigh, she stuck the key in the lock and turned it, opening the door to her home. She tossed the key onto the side table just inside and flicked on the lights, running a tired hand through her hair, pulling it back to see that her hand was streaked with grime from not having washed it in a week. Had she really been at the hospital almost that long? Surely, personal hygiene was crucial in a hospital. Why hadn't anyone _told _her?

"Keep a cool head, Laurel. The world doesn't revolve around you," she reminded herself as she padded down the hallway to where her bedroom was. She pushed through the door and rifled through her closet, picking out a standard gray sweater and black jeans. Then she went into the bathroom, took a quick shower and when she stepped out and wiped the fog away from the mirror, she got a real look at her reflection. And saw for the first time how gaunt she had become. Her cheeks looked sunken and there were dark, bruise-like shadows under her eyes, proof of her sleep deprivation. Her body looked significantly thinner, and her hair as well. Was she going to have to deal with depression again? Right after finally escaping rock bottom?

A tear snaked down her cheek and she hastily wiped it away. _No crying, Lance. Pull your act together. This is just a weak moment._ She took a deep sigh and left the bathroom, headed back toward her room, clothes tucked under her arm. As she began to dress, something slung over the back of her desk chair caught the corner of her eye, and she stared at it. It was the jacket Sara had given her the night of Slade's demise.

The jacket of the Canary – her little sister.

She hadn't been able to bring herself to put it on since the night her father collapsed. That jacket had seen war, and _war _was the very reason Quentin Lance had gotten injured in the first place. The jacket was everything bad in this world. Even if it had been worn by a hero. _By Sara_.

She finished putting on the rest of her clothes, and reached over to run her hand over the rough leather of the jacket. It was cool to the touch. A tickle caught in her throat, and she swallowed, all of a sudden feeling light-headed; dizzy. Pressing the back of her hand to her forehead, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them back up again, she reached out and picked up the jacket, running the fabric through her fingers, snagging her lip between her teeth subconsciously. Should she put it on? It was just a jacket after all. It didn't mean anything. It didn't change who she was. But the question was, did she want it to? Why had Sara given it to her in the first place? Did she expect Laurel to _do _anything with it? It was a stupid assumption. Of course Sara didn't expect anything. She had just given it to her big sister as a token of her love. They were family after all, and Sara leaving Starling, without at least giving Laurel something to remember her by was selfish. No, the jacket just served as a reminder that Sara was a hero, and that Laurel had been the one to remind her of that….right?

"No, ridiculous," she finally said through a released breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "It's just a jacket." And she let it fall back onto the chair, leaving the bedroom without looking over her shoulder.

OoO

_Oliver stepped from the sleek, black vehicle, Amanda Waller following suit, her crisp heels clacking against the concrete. He glanced up and around him, taking a good long look at his surroundings. This was actually Hong Kong. After a year and a half of being stuck on Lian Yu, he was finally free. But was he? After waking up in a strange room and forced into a strange car by armed guards, he wasn't exactly sure "free" could be applied to the situation._

"_This way, Mr. Queen," Amanda ordered, passing by him without even a backward glance. A hard object shoved Oliver forward, and he stumbled ahead, not wanting to look behind him. He knew there was a gun aimed at his head. The guard who had awakened him earlier had made no secret due to the slow reveal of the gun strapped to his hip._

"_Where are we going?" he couldn't help asking, though he didn't expect anyone to answer him. These people struck him as more of a "ask questions later" sort. Or, more like "ask question never" – not exactly the chattiest bunch. Especially Amanda Waller. She had that whole "bitchy exterior" thing working for her, and it made his blood run like ice the first few times she'd spoken to him._

_Suffice is to say, the vibe he got from her was most definitely not a good one. And the guns he could feel trained on his back, definitely didn't lessen that feeling. He continued to follow Amanda at a brisk pace, always keeping in mind that if he stopped, he might win a bullet to the back. As they walked along the crowded streets of Hong Kong, he was very aware of civilian eyes watching him. Where was Amanda taking him? Why the hell did she want _him_ of all people? Obviously, he hadn't been the only one on that island, or maybe he had. After Slade and Ivo's men had been dragged under water post-explosion – Sara, along with them – and after Oliver had killed Slade, he might as well have been the last one on Lian Yu. Assuming the others had gotten away in time after the destruction of the sub. But that still didn't mean it made sense to have someone like Amanda Waller, dragging him to Hong Kong for…what; a vacation? A secret mission? Or to have him arrested or killed? A million possibilities ran through his head as he continued to follow the woman, his eyes trained on the back of her neck, not taking his eyes away._

_After what felt like ages, Amanda finally turned down an alley and stopped by a metal door, pulling it open with the fluid grace of a cat. _

"_In you go," she barked at Oliver. He jumped and stepped into the building, flinching as she passed him, and then one of the guards jabbed his shoulder hard, forcing him to move again._

_Oliver stumbled down a dimly lit hallway, his footsteps echoing against the walls. They appeared to be made of some kind of metal. Or just standard metal; he couldn't exactly tell. All he knew was that if he didn't continue to move, the guards would jab him again and he much preferred to _not _be shoved in the back with a huge gun. In fact, he much preferred a scenario where he wasn't surrounded on all sides by dead-eyed strangers aiming firearms his way. He missed his bow and arrow right then and there. At least if he had those, he'd have a chance of escaping._

"_Through here!" Amanda barked once more, having stopped by another door, this one a little less grimy. She opened it, emitting a harsh white light and Oliver slowly approached it, peeking his head around to look through. But that must have been a moment's hesitation too long, because as soon as he stopped moving, something mauled him from behind and he fell forward into the room, falling flat on his face. The door shut loudly behind him._

_oOo_

Oliver shook himself awake, nearly falling forward onto the floor. He was surprised and disoriented at first, until he realized where he was. He was still back at the Foundry. He must have just fallen asleep while sharpening arrows. Normally, he would never have done that, but he hadn't exactly gotten a lot of sleep lately. Losing Callum Hunt was driving him nuts. He knew he couldn't blame anyone, though. Not Felicity, Dig, or least of himself. Hunt was just smart, and they had dealt with smart baddies before. And clearly, the Arrow wasn't exactly standing firmly with both feet on the ground. After everything that had happened these last few months, it was a wonder Oliver even wanted to continue being the Arrow. His family's company was basically gone, both his parents were dead and God knew where Thea had run off to. He just wanted to scream now. Or at least let off steam.

He raised himself from the chair, and picked his bow up off the table, grabbing a handful of tennis balls. He slung his quiver along one shoulder, and took a deep breath. Cocking his arm back, he launched three of the green spheres and strung his first arrow at lightning speed, releasing one after another, catching each ball in record time before they could bounce once on the floor. He repeated the process at least twenty more times, in hopes that his nerves would lessen, but somehow, by the twenty-first round, he only felt more riled up.

"Aaaagh!" he screamed, as he grabbed a handful of tennis balls and threw them forward, just for the hell of it. He brought his hands up to his hair, and twisted his fingers through the short tufts, closing his eyes tight; breathing fast and hard.

_Come on, Oliver. Keep it together. This is just a weak moment. Hunt won't get away again. _But was it just about Hunt? Oliver had been experiencing a multitude of changes these past months, one of the more recent being his feelings for Felicity. It angered him, he knew it. She was _not _supposed to be another Laurel or Sara to him. He didn't want her to be. She was more important than that. She was his friend, and his whole life, he never had those. Not women, anyway. The fact that Felicity Smoak had been the first ever _not to _be the object of his desire, spoke volumes. Her being his friend and partner meant that he could talk to her, on an equal level without a certain mixture of sexual tension getting in the way. He had thought, no _hoped_, that having a female friend meant he was finally on the way to becoming someone new. And not just the old, player he used to be.

Maybe he was wrong, though. Maybe women were still his weakness. Maybe his friendship with Felicity was short-lived, a small bit of relief from his old life until the rug was yanked out from under him and she became just like everyone else in his past.

_No_, he scolded himself. _Don't think like that, Ollie. She _is _your friend. After all that's gone down, the only people who have stuck by you, are the same one's you work beside night after night. Don't give up on Dig or Fel just because your feelings for one of them is shifting. If anything, you're growing closer to her. Your bond is only strengthening, not getting weaker._

He let out a deep sigh and reached onto his desk where his phone was, dialing Diggle's home number.

"John Diggle," came the man's familiar greeting. He sounded slightly worn out, though.

"Hey, Dig," Oliver said. "You okay with me crashing there for the rest of the night?"

There was a pregnant pause on the other end, and then, "Sure. No problem."

"You okay? You sound tired."

"I just…I just came back from the hospital."

Worry lanced through Olver's chest. "Is everything alright with Lyla?"

"Define 'alright'."

Oliver reached over and grabbed the keys to his bike. "I'll be right there." And he hung up, his heart pounding like a stampede in his chest. _This _was what he needed to keep himself together. The promise of steady friendship. If he could manage to maintain his bond with both Dig _and _Felicity, then maybe he could have the slightest hope of straightening out his life and getting it back on track. And maybe that would lead to finally putting Callum Hunt to justice.

Once and for all.


End file.
